He reached up, stroking the thread gently with a finger, sending a wave of heat directly into my chest.
“A connection,” he breathed, hand falling away from the thread as he closed his eyes, sucking in a deep breath. “In the absence of Tobias, I have to admit, it brings me comfort to be able to feel this.”
I didn’t want to admit it to myself, but I felt the same. Even without physical contact, the connection between Cirian and I had manifested. Not only that, it felt stronger than the last time. More tangible.
Was it because he had shared that part of himself with me? The true self that dwelled under that sheen of pompous insincerity. But what would happen if I did the same? Was I even capable of sharing a part of myself in that way?
It seemed there would be no better time to test the theory.
“It was the emotion, I think.”
“Hm?” Cirian hummed, his brown furrowing.
“Why I was drawn to the book,” I clarified. “I told you earlier that I found it difficult to interpret my own emotional response. When I was reading those poems, I had no question of how they made me feel. And that certainty was freeing in a way. Like I’d been holding back pieces of myself out of fear. Fear of exposing the nerves. Of peeling back the shell around myself.”
Cirian’s smile returned. “And what did it make you feel, Bast?”
Heat built under my skin, my gaze falling to my hands as they rested in my lap. “The ache of that longing. Of being so close to something, only to pull away time after time. I hurt for the man. I hurt for myself.”
“Then we’re the same,” Cirian said, setting aside the book. “And we both know that there’s something out there we’re fighting for.”
“But what if there were something more?” I hesitantly voiced the question burning in my mind.
“What do you mean?” Cirian asked.
I reached up once again, plucking at the connection that spanned the space between us. Cirian let out a shudder as I did, as if I’d brushed my fingers along the most tender of flesh.
“Is this connection between us merely a shared longing for Tobias, or has something else bloomed alongside it?”
Cirian watched me, his dark eyes filled with a wealth of questions that I wanted to wash away.
“Do you not feel the same?” I asked, sudden anxiety swelling in my gut. Did he not struggle with the same tangle of emotions I’d been failing to sort through? Perhaps I was nothing more than a distraction to him—a way to temporarily assuage his longing for Tobias.
I wouldn’t fault him if that were the case.
Cirian did not respond. At least, not with words. Instead, he crawled forward on the sofa, knocking pillows to the floor as he drew closer, pausing just shy of my face. With one last shaky breath, he closed the distance between us, pressing his lips into mine with enough force that the armrest behind dug into my back.
His breath quickly mixed with mine, his lips parting to open himself to me, and this kiss that spoke the words we’d both been dancing around. My hands rose to catch him at the waist as he continued his advance, the weight of him coming down on me as he maneuvered one leg over mine to straddle my lap. The silken material of his robe bunched around my hands, and as he pulled away from me, he pulled at the fastened knot that held it closed, undoing it with a single tug.
My breath hitched as he shrugged off the silk robe, letting it pool around his hips.
“I feel a great many things for you, Bast,” he said, voice thick with our shared desire. “You’re infuriating at times. Insufferable at others. An absolute wet blanket of a chap, honestly.”
I removed my hands from his waist. “This is a piss-poor attempt at flattery.”
His warm hands wrapped around mine, guiding them back to his body. “You also make me feel safe when you’re nearby. You make me feel like I’m more than just my title. Like I’m allowed to be just Cirian, not the Acolyte. I can shed the lacquer and varnish of my station and just be.”
He leaned forward, planting a gentle kiss atop my forehead.
“You certainly feel a lot,” I muttered, a trill running up my spine as Cirian shifted back in my lap, friction causing my cock to stiffen.
“Not all of us have the luxury of being emotionally stunted, Bast.”
I rolled my eyes, though I couldn’t stop the smile that spread across my lips. Cirian’s hands found their way around the nape of my neck as he pulled himself forward, our noses nearly touching.
“So, to answer your question, Bastien—yes. Despite my better judgment, affection for you has taken root, and there’s little I can do to change the fact. The question that yet remains is, what are we going to do about it?”
“I have several ideas,” I admitted, the urge to devour him in another kiss nearly winning out.
